There are countless challenges to be faced when you bid your homeland farewell in search of a better life abroad. When all those problems of adjusting, settling, working and getting used to the language have been overcome, there remains one that may well last ten or twenty years and have a great effect on the following generation--how the children are to be brought up. It is a question that has vexed Chinese-Americans for nearly two hundred years.

In the years since 1943 when the law designed to keep Chinese out of the US was scrapped, and with successive reforms to the Immigration and Nationality Law, Chinese immigrants to the States have included those coming to join their relatives, students who stayed on, refugees from Indochina, those on the move from Hong Kong, Macau and mainland China, and business and technical people from Taiwan. As a visit to any area where ethnic Chinese live--whether in New York, San Francisco, Los Angeles or elsewhere--reveals, there are generally two types of Chinese immigrant family: the traditional "Chinatown" Chinese, and the newer "suburban" Chinese.

"Suburban" Chinese means the class of white-collar well-educated professionals, inhabiting high income neighborhoods, tending to be lawyers, doctors and professors. Some originally came across as students then stayed on, and others immigrated for commercial or technical reasons. There are also second- and third-generation ethnic Chinese who moved away from the local Chinatown. "Chinatown" Chinese are those who still live in t he original area, running general stores, restaurants or laundries, or working in back street clothes factories. Some are old timers and some are recent arrivals from Hong Kong and the mainland, or are refugees from Vietnam, Cambodia and Laos.

For the most part, the problems faced by offspring of "suburban" Chinese are less because their highly educated parents often speak perfect English and blend in better with surrounding society. But in the relatively closed off Chinatown community, the children grow away from the language and outlook of their elders as they become ever more Americanized, and differences and misunderstanding can develop between the two generations.

Whether wide or narrow, the gap is an indirect consequence of the expectations that Chinese have of their children. Parents who were brought up with a traditional education want to make sure the next generation is well educated, to secure a better life and get a foothold in the new land. Examples of second generation Chinese-Americans who benefited in this way are numerous, including the former Hawaiian congressman Hiram Fong, whose father was a farm worker.

Evidence of the importance of education to the Chinese can be seen frequently. In New York, the Chinatown History Museum contains a representation of a classroom in a local Chinese school from over 100 years ago. Written in Chinese on the blackboard is the sentence: "Our only hope is through education." Also in New York, the "little Taipei" district of Flushing has a "Chinese-American Parents' Association," which continually answers queries from local Chinese on matters of their children's education.

As it happens, many immigrants to the US have not found the high-quality education for their children that they might have hoped for, only to see them grow up in a fully Western environment. As one mother wrote in the Flushing Chinese-American Parents' Association newsletter, her very bright daughter became a rebel and a truant after getting into a prestigious senior high school in New York City. Another described how from tenth grade on his son virtually stopped talking with him, and instead of eating at the table would take his plate to sit in front of the television, because he had nothing to say to parents who were unfamiliar with American pop and movie stars.

The changes that they witness are enough to dishearten most immigrant parents. At the very least their hope is for a succeeding generation that is clever, lively and self-improving, even if it cannot combine the best of East and West. But the reality today is more gloomy.

During our teenage years, intelligence is more or less on a par with adults, but reasoning and emotional and language skills are not so well developed, which contributes to conflict between the generations, especially when the factors of ethnic identity and peer group pressure are added.

American-born Amy Huang, a 22-year-old whose father comes from Taiwan, admits that during her teens: "I even wished I had brown hair and blue eyes." It was during those years that she was least sure of who she was, and had many self doubts and little understanding of her parents.

Language is where most generational problems begin to emerge. The commonest scenario, according to director Wang Cheng-fang who has really looked into the question, is where parents want the child to learn Chinese, or at least speak it at home, but the child adamantly refuses. In most cases the child speaks his parents' native tongue before entering elementary school, then forgets it. Says Wang: "Reading and writing are out of the question, and even speaking is a case of you speak to him in Chinese and he replies in English."

Communicating in English is not such a problem for immigrant families with a high educational level, because parents can at least understand what their children are saying, and have the confidence to ask when they don't understand. Not so however for parents whose command of English is poor.

"When there's a language gap, it's like bringing up someone else's kid," says Huang Li-ying, a counselor with the Chinese-American Parents Association. Parents are unable to tell children their real feelings, and children do not know exactly what their parents mean. "It is as if there is a layer of glass" separating the two generations.

Parents have to specially create a Chinese environment if their child is to learn Chinese overseas, and take the child regularly to Chinese school once or twice a week. At the same time they are quite aware of the limits to what can be learned in the short time available, and most parents fully understand that the real merit of the school is giving the children a chance to make friends with others of the same background.

For the children themselves, Chinese is difficult compared to English, and at that early age none actually volunteer to learn it. With all the extracurricular activities on offer at American schools, some of which have to be missed to study Chinese, it only makes them feel different from others. As Wang Cheng-fang points out, "They already feel different enough on account of ethnic appearance. So it is a real dilemma for the parents."

There are of course plenty of examples of those who master listening, speaking and reading (writing is harder) with help from their parents. But it is only a minority who blend Chinese and American cultures, have a knowledge of their ancestral tongue and ethnic roots, and know their own place amongst it all. Language aside, most other conflict in the family stems from the Americanization of the younger generation. Chu Pao-ling, chair of the Chinese-American Parents Association, explains that the children soon begin to look at their parents in terms of American values, which the parents don't realize and fail to adapt to in time, leading to conflict.

American parents for example tend to want their offspring to be independent, to respond to problems and to express affection. Chinese parents on the other hand are more conservative, and as a consequence the children often feel they are unloved: "Do my parents love me or not? Why don't they hug and kiss me like other people's parents?" "I am sure they must love me but I can't be certain. They have never said they loved me." In some cases, the children of families in Chinatown feel helpless because of all the restrictions placed upon them, such as no out-of-class activities or inviting friends around, and the heavy demand on them to study and help around the house at the weekend. This kind of Chinese upbringing causes the most complaints. "It's too severe," says Cindy Ma, currently a student at Cornell University. Parents refuse to let their children out to play, or go out on dates pre-university (especially girls), and such practices as opening and reading the children's mail can be infuriating for youngsters growing up in America. "Hardly any American families are like this, why should we be so different?"

Amy Shao, another Chinese-American girl with such experiences, points out that parents often want to keep the children at home because they feel that the world outside is very dangerous.

Casting an eye on the more degraded side of Western society, with alcohol and drug abuse, and sexual license, parents think their personal protection will reduce the chance of their children getting "infected." To the younger generation, this viewpoint is "weird" and "out of date."

Occasionally the law gets drawn into cases of disciplining within the family. Pui Wong, head of the Lower East Side Family Union--a counseling service for Chinese families--explains that the traditional Chinese attitude is that a child will be "no good if he's not thumped," and that one has an inalienable right to discipline one's children in this way. In the US though it may count as cruelty to a minor, and be illegal. In fact, such cases are rare as the courts are not unreasonable and recognize that parents are not being deliberately cruel. But again the major influence is on the feelings of the children themselves. "The kids say how come other people's parents don't do the same thing?" says Liang Chang Hsueh-Yu, a fourteen-year resident of the States, whose 11-year-old daughter complained that her friends' parents never hit them. Instead they make the children "stand under the clock for one or two hours," or "they don't speak to them for several days."

Pui Wong adds that the difference between parental teaching and what they learn in the wider environment is a further source of confusion for Chinese kids. At school, the teacher is likely to praise kids and encourage them to "go for it." But at home it is more likely to be: "Why did you do that? Don't do things like that! Why didn't you get full marks in the test? . . . " As Pui Wong says, it makes children think that everything they do at home is wrong, and it explains how some grow up thinking that their parents do not really love them.

Dr. Jerry Huang, an educational psychologist and senior high school guidance counselor, agrees about the great difference between Chinese and American teaching methods. He often sees American parents on the train quizzing their children for opinions, asking for example what they want to eat--hamburger or pizza? What kind of pizza? With or without salad? What kind? And a drink? What drink? Chinese parents on the other hand rarely seek their children's opinions. "American education usually gives children lots of choice, whereas the Chinese teaching method says: 'Do it this way and never mind why.'"

Parents continue to have a role in decisions affecting their children's future up until university and beyond. They may not know much about the courses that their child wants to take there, but they know enough to give an opinion. Cindy Ma, chair of the Chinese Students Association at Cornell University, explains that Chinese parents feel a great responsibility for their off-spring, and want them ideally to follow a chosen course in life. Thus it is that ethnic Chinese students, who usually do well, commonly take law or medicine, which are "clearcut, reliable and safe" routes to follow. Simply pass the required exams and you become a lawyer or a doctor, with high income and good status assured, and no more prejudice or unfair treatment.

Amy Huang, who has just graduated from the University of Pennsylvania where she was chair of the Chinese Students Association, says: "American parents take part in such decisions too of course, but they respect the children's interests a little more, and are not so insistent."

As shown in a survey by the Academia Sinica, one topic that ethnic Chinese parents overseas are very firm about is "whether or not their children's spouses should be ethnic Chinese." Chinese hope first for a Chinese son- or daughter-in-law, followed by another "yellow skin" Asian, followed by a white person. Professor Tsai Wen-hui of Purdue University in Indiana remarks: "The whole family freaks out if one of the grown-up children marries someone who's not 'yellow.'" As Wang Chengfang says, like attracts like, and there is good sense to the insistence of Chinese parents that their offspring marry other Chinese. Jewish and Italian families have the same expectation of their young folk, and as Professor Tsai points out, even the rest of American society is the same, where "marriages between black and white are not at all common." Nevertheless, "it is the young ones who are getting married, not the parents," continues Wang, and so parents should not ignore their children's wishes.

Chinese parents overseas have a shared concern: whether in language teaching, or family discipline or marriage questions, they need to know how to strike the right balance between two cultures, how to get the best out of the West, and preserve the virtues of the East, and how to proceed so that the children know they are helping, not constraining them.

Suggests Wang Cheng-fang: "Don't be lazy and don't be cursory." There is no need for parents to just do what everyone else does. First they should think rationally about the most suitable way for their child. If they want him to learn Chinese they could consider why and for what purpose. It may be that it would be fine for the child to study Chinese, but still more important is that he be a useful, sincere and happy person.

"I am always reminding myself, when it comes down to it we're in the USA now." Liang Chang Hsueh-yu believes that having chosen to settle in another land, one should quickly adjust oneself accordingly, like the younger generation of Chinese whose un-Chinese behavior includes shrugging their shoulders, putting arms around shoulders and even crossing their legs, as well as putting on make-up and showing themselves off. One may feel some regret to see them so unlike Chinese in appearance, but in truth they are no longer fully Chinese anyway.

Professor Liu Shao-ming of t he Department of East Asian Languages at the University of Wisconsin believes that rather than trying to force Chinese culture down their throats, it is better left until they naturally discover an interest in the subject themselves and want to find their own roots, when nothing will stop them. Proof of this can be seen in the literature and films of second generation Chinese-Americans, lookingback and searching for roots.

But Professor Liu reminds Chinese parents that they should certainly expose their children to Chinese culture at an early age, teaching them the language and celebrating Chinese holidays, and letting them see Chinatown, because this gives them a fundamental knowledge of "where I am from."

In recent years there much has been made of the successes of ethnic Asian students in the US. But surveys have also revealed a parallel phenomenon of ethnic Asians running away from school, taking drugs and so on. Their number includes both the best and the worst.

The prime concerns for immigrant parents are that their children should not fall among the ranks of the worst, and that the generation gap should not widen to an unbridgeable gulf. Bringing them up right from the start is where the answer lies.

[Picture Caption]

A display at the Chinatown History Museum in New York. Chinese who emigrate to the US do so to seek a better life, but many find themselves facing generational problems.

(Right) The Lins came from Taiwan to Flushing in New York eight years ago. At first Mrs. Lin was too scared to go out and work. Now her eldest son is at university.

Parents in Chinatown may be short on economic ability and educational level, which makes for conflict with their ever more Americanized children.

Shao An-mei, a second generation youth of Chinatown, believes that Chinese parents don't like to let their children out of doors because they believe the world outside is "too dangerous."

Chinatown in New York City. American-born Chinese are sometimes called " bananas," meaning yellow on the outside but white within, knowing nothing about their ancestral culture. But things are changing.

Henry Liu, taking pre-medicine at Cornell University says that in his family the way of teaching was simply that "parents are always right." His father is a pro fessor at Cornell, currently back in Taiwan.

A group of ethnic Chinese students at Cornell University. Some have been in the US as long as twenty years or more, others just a year or two. The longer they stay the more American culture they absorb and the greater the gap between the generations.

There are many well-educated and qualified "suburban" Chinese in the US, like Paul Chu, a world-renowned expert in superconductivity. (photo by Arthur Cheng)

Cindy Ma, currently taking pre-law at Cornell University, is a fairly typical second generation "suburban" Chinese.

Liang Chang Hsueh-yu's daughter is just eleven, but can already tell you about the differences between Chinese and American parents.

The Chinese School in New York is nearly 100 years old. It gives Chinese children a chance to learn the ancestral language outside of regular school hours.

The Pei-hsi Temple Association in San Francisco holds traditional activities every year, which give younger generation Chinese a chance to encounter their own culture at first hand. (photo by Arthur Cheng)

The traditional cultural teaching at the Chinese School is something that many young ethnic Chinese can look back on.

Where from and where to? Questions forond generation Chinese Americans to live with.

（Right） The Lins came from Taiwan to Flushing in New York eight years ago. At first Mrs. Lin was too scared to go out and work. Now her eldest son is at university.

Parents in Chinatown may be short on economic ability and educational level, which makes for conflict with their ever more Americanized children.

Shao An-mei, a second generation youth of Chinatown, believes that Chinese parents don't like to let their children out of doors because they believe the world outside is "too dangerous.".

Chinatown in New York City. American-born Chinese are sometimes called " bananas," meaning yellow on the outside but white within, knowing nothing about their ancestral culture. But things are changing.

Henry Liu, taking pre-medicine at Cornell University says that in his family the way of teaching was simply that "parents are always right." His father is a pro fessor at Cornell, currently back in Taiwan.

A group of ethnic Chinese students at Cornell University. Some have been in the US as long as twenty years or more, others just a year or two. The longer they stay the more American culture they absorb and the greater the gap between the generations.

There are many well-educated and qualified "suburban" Chinese in the US, like Paul Chu, a world-renowned expert in superconductivity. （photo by Arthur Cheng）

Cindy Ma, currently taking pre-law at Cornell University, is a fairly typical second generation "suburban" Chinese.

Liang Chang Hsueh-yu's daughter is just eleven, but can already tell you about the differences between Chinese and American parents.

The Chinese School in New York is nearly 100 years old. It gives Chinese children a chance to learn the ancestral language outside of regular school hours.

The Pei-hsi Temple Association in San Francisco holds traditional activities every year, which give younger generation Chinese a chance to encounter their own culture at first hand. （photo by Arthur Cheng）

The traditional cultural teaching at the Chinese School is something that many young ethnic Chinese can look back on.

Where from and where to? Questions forond generation Chinese Americans to live with.